


Beat Down

by typing_dragon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Dom/sub, Hux needs to literally be beaten into submission, M/M, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Spanking, Non-Sexual Submission, Sub Hux, Therapy Spanking, consensual but can be read as noncon I guess? so warning for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 14:43:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16199654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typing_dragon/pseuds/typing_dragon
Summary: Part of him is begging him to stop and submit now, but Hux squashes that disgusting urge with an audible huff of disdain.





	Beat Down

**Author's Note:**

> written in one go and not beta'd... I hope it's enjoyable anyway. I thought I'll start posting the self indulgent stuff I type up, because this fandom can always use more non-sexual kink.

He knows it is time when Ren enters his office unannounced, without his mask. It doesn’t mean he can accept it.

“It’s time.”, Ren says, and Hux wants to say _no, it isn’t_ , because it is 9:32 and it makes no sense for anything to start at such a time. Two minutes too late, or eight too early, Ren does not seem to give a kark, but Hux does, and the awful thing is that he has no say in this. They agreed on this, but the point is exactly that: that he has no control, but Ren does. It makes him livid, even though he knows he needs it. Wants it, even, but the process is always an ordeal.

“Get up.”, Ren demands.

Hux shakes his head, not only because he can, but because he does not want to get up for this now.

“Later.”, he says.

“Armitage. Stop that.”

Ren’s voice is stern but not raised: he’s speaking in this levelled tone that simply states the demand but does not emanate anger yet. Hux can feel part of himself recoiling in submission, but he is still not ready. It’s hard, letting go of control when you spend your life clutching onto it like a lifeline. He bares his teeth in what must be an instinct to snarl, and he keeps on staring at his work, his lapse in facial expression and the slight tension in the clench of his hand around the stylus the only sign of the internal battle he’s fighting.

“Armitage.” Ren warns him. This time, the tone is sharper, albeit still patient. Ren’s large form is looming behind him, but Hux decides not to care. He places another signature.

“one.”, says Kylo.

Hux can feel the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as they stand. Part of him is begging him to stop and submit now, but Hux squashes that disgusting urge with an audible huff of disdain.

“two.”

He knows what’s going to happen if he doesn’t give in now. Hux doesn’t look forward to it. But he also cannot bring himself to comply, to put the stylus away and surrender. This internal wall, blocking him off, never goes away. Kylo has to break in more often than not. Hux clenches his teeth, willing himself to just kriffing give in now, but he can’t, he won’t, he can not, stars damn it, HE is in control-

“three.”

Hux’ internal monologue is brought screeching to a halt when he is dragged up from his seat by an inescapable hand on the back of his neck, the stylus falling out of his grip and rolling off the desk with a loud clatter. Hux curses, some stupid whim making him reach to pick the damned thing up, put it back where it belongs, but Ren forces him up, and then he grabs his ear, pulling him forward.

Hux does not stumble after him until Ren _yanks_ , and even then, he is more dragged than escorted. It’s painful, it’s a struggle, but that’s the point. Ren grabs him by the neck again when they reach the couch, Hux is pulled over Ren’s lap despite all struggling, held down by a heavy arm pressing down on his back.

And then the beating comes. Not unexpected, of course, but still without warning nor mercy. Ren is brutal with his flat hand, rapid slaps that fill the room with the noise of Ren’s palm hitting Hux’ backside. Hux kicks out, fights against Ren. He is vicious, he is raging, and he doesn’t even process that he is grunting, huffing, yelling out feral sounds of frustration and rage. It hurts, it hurts, it HURTS, and he can’t escape, he can’t. get. away. Armitage can feel tears burning in his eyes after mere moments. He turns his head, tries to bite Ren, snapping his jaws shut on empty air like a rabid vornskr before he manages to contort himself enough to sink his teeth into Ren’s side. The fabric of the robes is thick, and Hux is at a bad angle, but he feels flesh underneath, and he presses his jaws shut, driving teeth into the mass below the fabric with vicious strength. Ren gives a sharp hiss of pain, and it’s almost a satisfaction to Hux before Ren grabs the back of his neck, fingernails digging into his skin, and yanks him off hard enough to make Hux’ teeth hurt.

His head is pressed down, and that is it, and the beating doesn’t stop.

Hux clenches his aching teeth. He’s defenseless, and Kylo is spanking him without mercy, and he cannot get away, he cannot gain control, he-

Armitage sobs.

At that, Ren readjusts his grip on him, but the smacks do not cease. Armitage is crying.

“good boy.”, Ren says, his breath a little laboured, but he says it without demand.

Armitage wails. He closes his eyes, weeping into the dark space between the side of Ren’s thigh and the couch cushions. It _hurtsithurtsithurtsithurts._

“I’ve got you.”, Ren is saying.

“I’ve got you.”

He’s still beating him, but the hits are coming slower now.

Armitage sobs , hiccups.

“I’ve got you.”, Ren repeats, and then: “count.”

And now, he can do that. He would not have been able to before.

“one.”, Armitage whispers, his voice swimming with tears as the next hit comes. “one. Thank you, Master.”

“good boy.”

_Smack._

“two. Thank you, Master.”

_Smack._

“three. Thank you, Master.”

 

Armitage counts to ten, and then Master says: “five more, then we are done. Count, Armitage.”

It’s more a reminder than a command, because Armitage obeys without thinking.

The hits are hard, and every one of them drives a whimper from his lips, and inbetween his mumbled numbers and thanks, he sniffles, he sighs. But when he has uttered his last count of “…fifteen. Thank you, Master.”, the beating stops.

And just like that, it is over, and Armitage is laying limp and weak, completely exhausted over Master’s lap, his struggling long stopped. He is crying quietly now, seeking the comfort of Master’s warmth; turning his head to Master’s side, where Hux bit so viciously only moments before. A gentle hand is stroking his hair, a warm murmur trickles at the edge of his consciousness: _good boy, well done, good boy, Armitage._ He is hurting, and he is too weak to clutch onto Master properly, so he gives a pitiful little noise of need. Armitage feels the tear-blurred room shift around him as he is picked up, held to Master’s warm chest and carried. He turns his face into dark thick robes that smell like Master. _Good boy, Armitage. Such a good boy._

Maybe one day he’ll be able to believe that he is, and not only after he has been hit.


End file.
